Tuesday, October 27, 2015

I'll tell you the truth; I've felt since I was a child that my art is
half graphic, half narrative. I worked with both independently. Now I am
more interested in using the words. I'm getting disenchanted with the
process & outcome of the drawing.

From my current novel. Note: Paul is a 48 year old entertainer.

Paul
walked into his bedroom. It was his nerves that got him, his goddamn
nerves. He sat on the bed. He pulled a bottle of rye from the night
stand. Paul was past the point of enjoying liquor. But just the
assurance that there was a nip or two at hand gave him something of that
warm, quieting sense of stability. Every thought became a profundity.
He could get through life. Bittersweet surrender was at hand.

An
hour later, Mama found her son stretched across the bed, with one foot
on the floor, his mouth hanging wide open, not snoring at all, but
drooling noticeably. She took off his shoes, put his leg on the bed and
covered him with a blanket. But she drew the line at removing his pants.
That he could do himself.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

From my (first) novel; Wheezy's adolescent years: Girls were easy to get.
Wheezy was an outlaw, dangerous, and dreadfully thrilling. There was
the threat of a bruise with every kiss. He gravitated toward girls with
low self esteem; ones begging for his approval. Each dreamed they were
capable of being “the one” to fill the gap in his tormented soul. Wheezy
developed a contempt for them.

Wheezy walked alone a lot of the time. His alienation was nurtured like a hothouse plant.

On the
other end of the spectrum, Wheezy chose to join the high school’s drama
group. He reveled in it. His frightening side dissolved. His fellow
performers saw another side of him: alive with positive energy, amusing,
and gifted with a devilish sense of humor. From the beginning, he was
playing Falstaff and Puck, any character created with a deviant spirit.
His parents couldn’t have cared less; they didn’t bother to show up at
the presentations. Instead of disapproving of his interests, they
ignored them entirely. The extremes of his personality confused and
threatened teachers; he was an adolescent personable and excellent in
his English, drama and art classes, but could otherwise be deemed a
brute.

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Some snippets from the fourth draft of my novel, THAT'S SHOW BIZ. Wheezy Gibson is an obnoxious, sadistic comedian.Wheezy in Greenwich Village: Wheezy cynically observed the ‘artist
types’ (not necessarily artists, he thought) splashing black paint on
huge sheets of paper, soaking themselves as well. It wasn’t calligraphy;
what the hell was it? He was flabbergasted that such types were also
just as attached to the Old Masters as he was. Looking at a bookshelf, Wheezy said, “What? You like Tintoretto too?” “Sure, man. He’s a master; any reason I shouldn’t like him?” “No…but why do you do the kind of work you do?” “It all adds up together, man. We live in an Art World.” Wheezy felt ill equipped to argue.

Wheezy in prison: Days in solitary passed. As was the prison’s
intent, days nor even hours existed for Wheezy. Just time, the end of
which he’d never be told. Wheezy tried not to allow any thoughts about
“show biz” to enter his thoughts. He thought of patterns of wood grains
in trees, textures of stones, shapes of clouds, anything that had no
meaning to his old lifestyle at all. He recalled his favorite classical
pieces and “played” them over in his head. He remembered the Renaissance
paintings he had such respect for, and “examined” them in his mind,
brushstroke by brushstroke. He wasn’t happier. But he wasn’t wasting
time, either. There was nothing else to do.

After Wheezy "services" a masochistic "patroness": Kitty got up on
her hands and knees, crawled to Wheezy’s feet, and fervently threw her
arms around his ankles, and kissed his shoes passionately and
repeatedly. “Wheezy…I knew you’d do it for me. I deserved it…every bit
of it.” Wheezy asked, “WHY do you think you deserve it, lady?” “Because I’m rich.” Wheezy did a double take.
“Your kind", Kitty whimpered, "…you suffer so while people like my kind
suck you dry. Don’t you get pleasure from getting even?” “Well,
actually, no, Lady. Why don’t you give your earthly possessions to the
Army-Navy store or something? This makes no sense.”

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Work on my novel at present: I did what I've heard advised; transcribed
each story point of the second draft on separate index cards, stretched
them out in rows on a table, examined the set, and placed them in
different orders to see if I could strengthen the storytelling by
changing the order of the events, seeing which would make the best
contrasts. punchlines, etc. The fact that I started the process on a
table at the coffee shop got me into a couple of interesting
conversations.

I changed the order several times, and found the one I
thought was best. It was somewhat different from the order of the second
draft!

Next comes improving the text itself and filling in gaps, which I
expect to take some time. So far, I've gained another 1500 words.I
won't have to worry about saying "goodbye" to these characters for a
while.

Getting it published? Well, as I said, I'm doing this for myself, so it's already paying off. What may happen later is of no concern now.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

As with all artists, young people will come to me for drawing
advice. Some hints are heeded more readily than others. I didn’t make up most
of them. They were handed down to me. Here’s some hints that generally aren’t taken:

STOP WATCHING CARTOONS FOR SIX MONTHS. Most young
cartoonists (and currently, many older ones) find it impossible for even a day.
I’ve done it longer than that, just to get the accepted “way of doing things” out
of my head and to find my own ways.

DON’T DRAW CHARACTERS DOING NOTHING. So commonly, artists
will stick to drawing “presentation” poses: characters with one hand up,
signaling “hello” in that 1930s way; standing straight with hands on hips; or
doing standard eye-pop stances. These are so common because they’re the easiest
to draw. Better to draw a character with brains. Draw them actually doing
specific things that challenge your own skill. (My favorite is dancing.) A
sketchbook should be filled with stuff you haven’t tried yet, not just “funny”
heads & “cartoony” poses. And, for heaven’s sake, draw groups of them, two
or more, reacting to each other in conversation, as well as objects and
backgrounds. Then apply the stuff you have down pat in your finished art.

Now that “exaggerated” cartooning has become so common (it
was held in low regard until the 1990s), I suppose my own reaction has been to
try to “fake it” less. I want my drawings to be sophisticated as well as fun.

I was present when someone said to Ralph Bakshi that my work
was “just like Jim Tyer”. Ralph said, “Naw, Milt’s work has more intellect than
Tyer’s.” Whether one would see that as good or bad (even Ralph), it was a proud
moment for me.

FORGET CIRCLES FOR A CHANGE; SQUARE THE CONSTRUCTION DRAWING
OFF. Can add solidity and even speed. You can become more aware of what your drawings
are because the characters are solid objects, not superficial line approximations.
Give your characters collar bones and hips. Here’s a heresy for you: put your
Preston Blair book away now and then and look at people and animals with your
own eyes.

Returning to drawing after a sabbatical, I’m using photos of
dancers whose poses are a little new for me to try. In no way am I hinting that
these drawings are perfect, or that I’d even allow them to be seen elsewhere.
Even as I scan them, I’m seeing errors. They’re the kind of sketches I’ll wait
another day to review and repair. Gotta risk being strange before you can be
good.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

While working on COOL WORLD, I told Ralph B. that Holly, the dancer,
shouldn't just do rotoscoped moves. Being a 'doodle', she should do
things a 'doodle' can. Dribble her head like a basketball, or grow more
legs and do a can can. If it was synced to music effectively, rather than seeming random, it could have worked well. But, no, that wasn't 'sexy'. So she ended up
being, IMO, a 'live' character with lines.

Even I don't love the film. But putting it down, meh. A waste of time. Now, DESPICABLE ME 8...

Sexier than Holly: I ran Ralph the dancing girl shot from THE TUBA TOOTERS. His mouth hung
open, and he said "Oh my GAWD!!" But such designs were relegated to the
BG.

f
you're going to draw a cartoon, DRAW one, I say. With a kapital "K"!!
(From NATIONAL DEFENSE, an Egyptian cartoon from 1940.)